


Gods Bound By Rules

by CorsetJinx



Category: Drag-On Dragoon | Drakengard
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mental/Emotional Instability, Murder, Solitude
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 16:51:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4927501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorsetJinx/pseuds/CorsetJinx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of the Watchers' descent, Caim and Manah travel the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gods Bound By Rules

**Author's Note:**

> Corset here, claiming the disaster that sprouted from my mind.

In the wake of Angelus’ ascension he finds her cowering by the broken pillars near the dais where Furiae had lain. At the sight of him her red eyes grow wider than they already had been, pupils contracting into tiny dots of black. She lurches herself to the side, crying, babbling as she tries to run. The floor is covered with rubble and her long robe catches on every stray piece it seems, her feet slipping under her and slowing her down.

He follows her cries, her twisted, grasping mind that still reaches for the false love of her Gods.

His legs are longer, eat up the distance between the two of them and he grasps her thin arm harshly and hauls her back. She screams, human and piercingly loud. He thinks Seere had made such a noise once, but now he doesn’t care enough to recall. She tugs and pulls, pits her now human strength against him and cannot seem to comprehend why she can’t escape.

He cuffs her with his free hand, flesh hitting flesh somehow louder in the sudden breaking off her of wailing. She stares at him, eyes stretched to their limits and begins to shake violently. He can see water pooling, held in check just by her eyelids and whatever shock keeps her stock-still in his grip.

Lips pull back from his teeth but it is not a smile, more reminiscent of the dragon who was his pact-partner than anything human. Not for the first time, he wishes for a voice. But he’s paid his price for power, for life, and this little girl has taken all from him.

Her mind is still reaching, grasping for anything in the vast emptiness left by the Watchers and he seizes upon that with no concept of mercy.

_You will not run, because I will find you. Do you understand?_

Her body jolts, standing to attention and he sees a flicker of hope in the bloody color of her irises. Sees it halt and wither as she realizes he is not her ally, he is the one who has her by the arm and is anchoring her in the reality she caused with selfish madness. It is nearly fascinating, to watch the tears start to fall as if on their own. They cut trails over her skin, newly marred by dust and sweat.

Still, her eyes stay on his and he squeezes her arm for emphasis.

_You caused this, the destruction of the world._

She jerks, beginning to fold in on herself, seeking refuge from the weight of his hate, his merciless judgment. But the red of her dress and robes do not consume her as she might wish, and he pulls her closer to him as he kneels to be at her level.

Her mouth opens to scream and he stops her with his other hand, thick fingers all but encompassing her jaw and most of her little cheek.

_You will see the pain and insanity you have inflicted on the world. You must not forget what you see. Should you run, I will find you. Never forget that_.

He shakes her once, repeating the soundless speech with his mind, his conviction which has led him across all the world and slaughtered all that stood in his path. He thinks her mind tries to flinch from his, but she has kept it open so long that she may not know how. They hold each other’s stares for another long moment before he releases her face, standing slowly and adjusting his grip on her arm. His fingers easily encircle the limb, meeting each other on the other side.

She doesn’t pull away from him as he starts walking, not until they have cleared most of the rubble from the Fortress. He supposes it is the sight of the outside world that spooks her into fighting again, the knowledge that he intends to make good on his word to show her the devastation she wrought.

He walks, heedless of her straining, ignoring how she tries to dig her feet into the starved ground to impede their progress. Far behind, he thinks the priest and her brother are still within the Fortress but they no longer matter. He seethes from within, hate and loss twisting into one another until he can’t separate them.

From what feels like a great distance, he feels the weak brush of Angelus against his mind and the pain in his chest flares once again; tightens his grip on the high priestess’ arm until she cries out against the treatment.

There is no road, not anymore if there ever had been but he continues to nearly drag his charge along. His sword is sheathed at his back, a weight now more a part of his body than anything else.

If they are attacked, he can defend them both.

He won’t allow the girl to die, not until his vengeance is satisfied.

-

She does not know what time it is, how long they have been walking, but her feet are tired and sore; mouth full of dust and running her tongue over the roof of her mouth does nothing but make it stick there. Her breath tastes foul, and her stomach is still strung tight with knots- she does not know if she is hungry but knows she has not eaten since much, much earlier, when the Watchers still spoke to her.

She has reached for them, cried for them, begged and pleaded but they do not answer. The voices which had filled her mind are gone, severed violently- so violently that something in her brain feels deadened, not even tatters to grasp onto. The only mind she can sense is that of the silent man beside her, still pulling her by the arm towards… she doesn’t know.

The world is too large and she too small, it hates her and she wants to run, crawl away and hide.

He squeezes her arm as if he can read her thoughts, the touch sends a dull pain through the limb but she feels all cried out and heavy. His mind has settled into itself, she can sense it but not see his thoughts, not unless he wishes her to. It feels like a heavy lead wall next to her own, strange and terrifying because there is so much _hate_ and _rage_ and parts of it feel like a raw, ugly wound that has festered past the point of amputating to save the rest.

One blue eye looks at her and she feels herself shudder, snapping her gaze away to look at anything, _anything_ but him. He is worse than the monsters that lurk about the war-strewn ruins, almost more frightening than Mo-Mot- _Mother_

She stops, suddenly enough to draw his attention and doesn’t feel her eyes sting with newfound tears. The word _(Mother)_ repeats itself _(mother mother mother)_ on a broken loop and she- and she- and she-

She is crying, wailing now for the mother that left her behind, hated her, loved Seere _so much_.

The man who is her jailor stares but her mind has no place for his hold this time, not as it heaves on itself like hurricane-tossed surf, straining for something so long gone that it may as well never existed in the first place. He does not bend with her when she sags, curling inward and weeping. She hangs awkwardly from his hold, like a doll, but she doesn’t care.

“Mother... m-m-mother..!”

She cannot see his face twist, features scrunching in something that looks like anger. It is anger, but it is a heady mix of other things too and what she does feel is when he lets go of her arm and hefts her up against him.

It is not a gesture of comfort. Not even her starved mind can see it as such.

His arm is a band of steel around her waist and his side is hard and uncomfortable against her back, breastplate unforgiving against her soft, albeit thick clothes. Her arms and legs dangle boneless over his arm and against his hip, and this makes her cry more, tears and mucus mingling on her face as the black haired man resumes walking.

The ground blurs before her eyes into a mush of browns and blasted reds, the tears sting her eyes and her stomach clenches from nausea. Against her back she can feel her captor’s movement, seemingly unimpeded by her weight and shape and a wrung-out sliver of her mind wonders if he can even feel weariness at all.

It seems as though they will never stop walking.

-

He stops after the hazy disc of the sun has set, many hours after the child in his grasp has fallen silent and simply hung against him. She feels heavier, gaining pounds of dead weight that Leonard might have spoken of when he carried Seere after the boy tried to keep up with their rigorous march. He doubts that she is asleep, as he can still feel the pull of her mind- numbed now from hours of stress and silence. Her breaths have evened out over the period of time he has trekked across the broken terrain, so he is sure that she has not slipped away from him by will alone.

She shifts now that he has stopped, lank blonde tresses giving away the movements of her head as she looks around. There isn’t much to see, he knows. They are still in a valley, exposed but for jutting rough sculptures of earth thrust up from the reddening sky perhaps. The ground dips enough before him that he thinks they can chance a camp.  
Part of him wishes to keep walking, a savage desire to torture the girl in his hold but he knows that he needs to sleep.

Turning to one effigy of rock he sets her down, eyeing the pooling red cloth around her tiny form. She offers no resistance, but stares up at him with a mix of terror and morbid expectation. The skin around her eyes is puffy and a lighter red than her irises, nose still faintly discolored from her crying. She looks exhausted, yet unwilling to take her eyes off of him.

That fills him with a black kind of joy, that she still remembers her fear of him.

With a soundless grunt he joins her on the ground, once again meeting her eye for a long moment before drawing out his sword. She reacts instantly, pushing her form against the stone behind her as if it swallow her whole and provide shelter and salvation. He ignores it, drawing out a cloth from one pocket and starting to clean the worn, darkened blade.

There is no fuel for a fire, and he finds himself missing the warmth of his dragon, her presence against him and his mind. The void it leaves tightens the corners of his mouth, but he reasons that a fire might be too dangerous this far out in the open; monsters provoked by the Watchers’ descent likely to still be prowling around.

The girl watches him clean his weapon for at least half an hour before her eyelids begin to droop against her will. He doesn’t look at her, sensing she will lose her battle against sleep soon enough after what has happened today. The rhythmic motions of his cleaning ease the harsh edges of his mind, familiar activity a buffer against the broken.

She slumps against the rock behind her and he lets out a faint noise, not quite frustration but close enough. Lifting his gaze to the area around them, he settles in for the night.

-

In the morning they wake and walk again, the girl fighting him only once- when he’d lent over to wake her she’d let out a piercing scream and tried to run. Caught between him and the shafts of earth nearby it had not been a long chase, but she had cried when he caught her. Begged him to kill her, to not take her anywhere else. Her little hands had tugged on his wrists, fisting the cloth covering his arms as she stared up at him. He thought he might have seen a glimmer of her former madness in her eyes, the wretched expression on her face.

He’d shaken her off, once again kneeling down to her level and taken her head in his hands.

That close, he could see individual strands of her hair shake along with her, the tiny, swollen blood vessels in her strained eyes and the dirt seeping into her skin. She’d been frozen, by his proximity, by his large hands on her head and forcing her to maintain direct eye contact.

His eyes were very blue, the pupil a spot of an abyss she didn’t understand but was terrified of. The skin of his hands, bereft of gloves unlike hers, had felt searingly hot against the thin flesh of her face, her scalp. It was rough, his skin, the touch itself, not at all gentle but not enough to hurt her either.

_You will not die. Not now, not for a very long time. I won’t let you._

The thought insinuated itself into her mind like the pressure of a hand around the throat, cutting off any plea she might have made. There was malice mixed in with the statement, his anger replaced by a cold, matter-of-fact sentiment. His fingers had pressed into her skin briefly, as if he might crush her head between his palms- still blue eyes bored into her red ones.

Their look was free of any ill-conscience, steady and sure as the ground under their feet.

_Remember that. I will not let you die yet. You will see the world and all the suffering you’ve brought first, and then we will continue._

His thumbs had brushed over the apples of her cheeks, driving his telepathic words home before he’d released her and stood.

He’d taken her by the wrist this time, and led her on.

-

The first settlement they came across was little more than a fresh ruin, smoke occasionally wafting off the buildings closer to the outskirts. She’d pressed against his side at the sight, for once grasping his hand tightly. He’d paid it no mind, scanning the standing buildings and deciding to move forward. She’d resisted, only to give in when he continued on and she had to move her feet or be dragged.

No bodies met his sight, but he knew that meant little. Instead, he’d pulled her into one house and scrounged around for something to use as a pack.

She’d been the one to find it, tugging on his sleeve and pointing a finger towards the bundle partially hidden under a fallen chair. He’d nodded once he saw it, pulling her over as he went to pick it up.

They moved through the buildings this way, picking through what hadn’t spoiled and could still be used. The only time he let go of her hand was when she crossed her legs uncomfortably, bitten her lip to keep from making any sound.

It took him a moment to pick up on what she was trying to hide, then he’d pushed her towards the wall of one house and waited for her to relieve herself. She hadn’t been able to at first, aware of his eyes on her even if it wasn’t a direct stare.

In one of the houses he’d found a knife and turned to her once they’d gone through the rest. She’d drawn up in fear, eyes darting about for any sort of escape. He’d cut the fabric of her clerical robe, shortening it so that it no longer dragged in the dust but it didn’t stop her whimper of fear.

Blue eyes had flicked up to hers, their gaze flat and blank before returning to their task.

He might have taken her gloves, but she curled her fingers into fists and then hunched in on herself until she was nearly fetal. Her ears picked up the hiss he’d exhaled through his teeth, wondered if it too was something he’d learned from the great red dragon she’d watched him hunch over as it became the Goddess. Seeing that she wouldn’t uncurl, he let her keep the gloves, but hoisted her onto his hip once more since she wouldn’t walk.

They’d stopped by the well to see if the water was still usable, and she’d peered into the deep hole with a morbid fascination. The darkness seemed to call to her, the sight of water so far below like a beacon. He filled the canteen he’d found and handed it to her, watched as she stared at it without understanding for a moment. She drank, hesitant at first, then eagerly when relief from the moisture reminded her of how thirsty she’d been. He only took it back once she was done, drank for himself and then filled it again.

She’d watched his throat bob, hidden mostly by cloth and armor; surprised at evidence that he was, indeed, human.

After stowing the canteen away he’d given her a hunk of bread to eat, pressing it into her hand firmly as if to make sure she didn’t drop it or refuse. It tasted stale in her mouth, but her stomach had decided to remind her that she’d only had water until now and so she ate.

Their seemingly aimless trek continued.

-

The silence that stretched indefinitely began to wear at her mind, but she couldn’t see any chance of conversation with her captor- not when his only method of speech was directly into her mind and usually held only terse instructions for her to follow. In the wake of the quiet she became more attuned to the noises of the physical world, as the Watchers had only ever spoken to her telepathically. Her last spoken words had been to the man beside her the previous day, pleading for him to end her life. Now, she tried to ward off the nagging doubt filling the empty spaces in her head; guilt and despair filling her up in almost equal measure.

She wanted to go home, to be held by someone, anyone that would tell her it was all a bad dream. That she would wake and it would be alright, that she was loved and safe. Her chest hurt at that word: love.

The Watchers had claimed to love her, but now they were gone. Seere had taken all of Mother’s love, but Mother was dead and never coming back and her twin brother was somewhere in the world, far from her. All she had was this man, his calloused hand encircling her wrist and he could not speak a word, let alone care for her beyond making sure she survived the world she’d shattered for love.

Noises startled her, made her jerk and look around during the day and worse in the night. Monsters became more common as they traveled, as the world began to realize that it had not died entirely and made an effort to continue on.

At first the sight of beasts terrified her, but what happened after their sighting was worse. Her travelling companion seemed more beast than human in those moments, his arm nearly crushing her against his body as he struck out at any foe. How he managed to wield his sword one-handed escaped her, but he managed tight turns and dodges whenever a beast struck out at them both. She’d felt the splatter of blood against her face once, felt her eyes grow wide and a trembling cry of fear erupt from her throat.

The man had paid no heed to her distress, murdering anything that stood in his way.

This also stood true for other humans.

She’d seen them when he had, figures hunched and picking across the slowly improving landscape; their heads drawn up to the two only a few moments later. Part of her had nearly vibrated with relief- other people, people who could talk and perhaps help her escape this man were near. He’d drawn her to a halt some distance from the strangers, holding her tightly by his side but she’d focused her gaze on the newcomers instead.

Two, three men, all covered in plain, patchy clothes with little else on them. They’d stared at her, her dirty red dress and robe, and at him and she watched as they spoke with each other hurriedly. Their voices had drifted and she’d strained to hear.

They had drawn out weapons, knives really, but the shock was enough that she’d backed into the dubious safety of her captor’s bulk. He’d stood completely still, watching the men advance and a growing smile on his face- the one she thought reserved for monsters that got in his way.

In a moment, he’d lifted her up and unsheathed his sword, charging into their group with a grin like a madman. She’d tried to close her eyes against the scene- blurring colors from his movements as he’d driven each man back and cut them down without remorse, but she couldn’t lift her hands to her ears to block out their screams.

Her sensitive mind caught the pleasure radiating from his being like heat from a fire. No words entered his thoughts, merely emotion of a depth she couldn’t comprehend, tried to shrink away from. Bloodlust was his outlet, killing his joy and it beat at her ravaged senses with all the gentleness of a flash flood. She felt his chest rise and fall once the last man had been stuck down, her eyes catching sight of his bisected remains before she could close them again. Her captor’s breath was only barely labored, dark joy licking at her senses from the kill.

She shuddered against his breastplate and sobbed. His arm tightened marginally around her in response, then loosened to its previous grip. She didn’t know what was behind the gesture, trying to wall her mind from his so that his twisted enjoyment wouldn’t feed back into her senses so strongly. It came to her later that he was walking, had been for some time while she had cried. The area around them was slowly becoming greener and she thought she glimpsed the shapes of trees in the distance. Her companion’s breathing had evened out, his chest moving against her back in a smooth rise and fall as his legs carried them on.

_You closed your eyes._

She flinched, straining against his arm at the touch of his mind to hers.

_Next time keep them open._

It was an order, and she hated that she was too afraid of him to think of disobeying.

-

The terrain they crossed was able to support life and it was there that they’d lingered for a time. It rained and she’d marveled at first, not recalling the sensation before. It got everywhere, soaked her clothes and her skin but the heat of the fires her companion made drove the chill out for a time. She’d seen him looking at her legs, patches of bare skin showing where her red stockings had torn or ripped and quickly tucked them underneath her, not knowing why it made her so uncomfortable.

He still ordered her to keep her eyes open when he had to fight, so she could see the injuries, the deaths. If she closed her eyes during battle he would set her down after it was done and force her to open them. Sometimes he would take her chin in hand and force her to look, really look at the gore of the aftermath.

_Never forget what you’ve done._

She would shake afterwards, even cry. He would take her arm and resume their walk, or if she resisted would simply lift her again and carry her until she wore herself out.

Sometimes she tried to guess how long it had been, how many days had passed since the Watchers left her all alone with this monster in the shape of a man. She could not pinpoint the days exactly, but it felt like years.

Still, they seemed to have no clear destination.

In the first real town they entered, he’d pulled her aside and removed her shoes and stockings. She’s fought him, surprising herself by scratching at his hands, pulling at the thick black hair on his head. He’d hissed at her, quickly seizing her hands hard enough for her to cry out, dragged her close so that they were nearly nose-to-nose.

Wet grass cooled her bare feet and the heat of his breath fanned her face as she struggled in his hold, tugging ineffectually to free her hands, to run. His hand encircled her wrists and the free one laid upon the back of her head, the touch freezing her in place.

Anger glared at her from his pale eyes, fear and defiance staring back from her own.

_I am getting you clothes that will last the autumn and winter, but if you fight me you will walk barefoot no matter where we go._

The hand around her wrists squeezed for emphasis, and she winced. “Y-you’re scaring me. I didn’t… I thought…” Her voice emerged with a crack between the words, initially tiny and rusty from disuse, but becoming wet with the mix of emotions twisting inside her. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back and looked down at his hand around hers, to her naked toes looking almost ghost white against the grass.

She didn’t see his expression twist, minor surprise and disgust marring his features for a moment but her senses could find it in his mind. The hand at the back of her head lifted, the other releasing her arms. She curled them close to her chest, fighting back the urges to cry and to be sick.

He didn’t stand, and the weight of his gaze made her hunch further inside herself.

_Come. We’re not staying._

The touch was light against her hand, and she let him take it for fear he might use force if she refused. He led her into the cluster of buildings, ignoring the stares the two of them received. She peeked out at the people from behind her hair, warily traced their faces for… what, she didn’t know. A violent intent, perhaps.

He paid for her pants and new shoes, picking up a cloak of forest green with gold-colored trim at the last moment. She dressed quickly, not daring to complain about the almost too-long pants; only to be surprised when he carefully laid the cloak around her shoulders.

She looked up at him, but he only held her hand and resumed walking, hair obscuring his eyes from her vision.

When she tried, tentatively, to touch his mind, she found nothing but a wall blocking out all contact and feedback; pressure against her mind not unlike a door being shut.

She huddled in the warm bundle of cloth and focused on her feet.

-

He was still awake when she tried to escape for the fourth time. She’d waited, he noted, until he’d set aside his sword and leaned back against the wall of the cabin they were staying in. He’d closed his eyes, gradually slowed his breathing, just listening. Outside, the sounds of the storm where tapering off, and it was one of the scattered days he could feel the touch of Angelus’ mind through the Seal. It brought a brief quirk of lips to his face, body relaxing as if ready to rest. She’d still been awake, and he’d waited for her to either make her move or settle in slumber herself.

After an hour had passed, she’d crept up from her spot- likely testing her weight by degrees because he hadn’t heard her at first. He’d pretended not to notice the scuff of her shoe against the aged floor, kept his breathing slow and deep.

A moment after she passed through the door he was after her on silent feet.

They’d stayed by a larger town for a few days, partly to wait out the storm which had arrived earlier than anyone expected. He’d rented a room at the inn for them, locked the doors and windows and watched her peer at the townspeople outside their little safe haven from the elements. It was only on the third day that she’d messed up, he’d seen her talking with an older woman in a furtive tone.

The woman had looked up, at him, and her mouth had drawn into a thin line and her cow-like eyes had narrowed. His charge had hurried away, intent on making the encounter seem innocent. He’d kept a closer eye on her since then, watched her count the meals and recite the number of days it had been since the near end of the world. He could still recall the blanched expression that had settled on her face when she learned it had almost been a year, only one, since he’d taken her from the destroyed Fortress and forced her to witness the changes of the world firsthand.

Now, he had to admit that she was faster than when they’d first met. She tried to make as little noise as possible, attempting to navigate the underbrush rather than picking the clearer path back to town.

He felt excitement prickle under his skin, mouth stretching into a gruesome smile.

She froze, as if suddenly aware of his presence and he stopped moving. Her head moved from side to side, her neck extended to try and maximize her view in the darkness.

There was only a little light from the breaks in the clouds, and he could admit that she did well to make it this far.

He wondered, blandly, if the woman in town had promised her sanctuary. A home. Love.

He withheld a snort, if only because it would give him away.

She began to move again and he followed, deliberately making noises to steer her off course. Her body would freeze at any sound, her head moving from side to side in an attempt to catch it. She grew less careful as they continued, more lost and less confident than when she’d started.

A branch snapped, not his doing, and she bolted into a run.

He crashed after her, peering into the darkness for anyone else. Shapes moved, too small to be most of the beasts he could recall. A call went up, distinctly human voices ringing out between the foliage.

“Here! She’s here!”

He grit his teeth in a rage, drawing out his sword.

-

She had been stupid to be caught, she knew. He’d seen her talking to the goodwife in town and ever since had watched her closely. She should have waited, at least another day to escape, but the storm was passing and she was bursting with the need for freedom.

She’d thought he’d been asleep, she really had, because he’d looked so utterly relaxed and his breathing had deepened so much-

The voices of the townsfolk cut through her regrets the same as their torches did the darkness and she cursed under her breath, in her mind. She’d asked them not to bring torches, he could find them that way, kill them all and she would be responsible.

She just wanted to be away from him. Preferably forever.

He was here, in the woods, he would find her and there would be hell to pay- he would make her watch as he killed them, she was sure, make her see what reaching out for help meant. She ran harder, slapping branches away from her face and heading outside of the inquisitive gathering of flame.

The screams did not start until she could barely see the torches from a glance over her shoulder, the air itself lighting up as if the sun had decided to spring daylight upon them early. She felt the energy pass, choked on this new knowledge and tried not to trip over tree roots.

Watchers, Watchers help her he could use magic!

The tree line eventually broke and she was free, somewhere close to the town she thought but most importantly she was free for now. She could hear nothing from the woods, whatever sounds of battle consumed and muffled by trees and brush. Casting a harried look both ways, she fought to remember which way it was to the town.

North? Or had she fled too far off course?

For fear of capture, she decided to pick a direction and run- shutting out all thought of what might be happening behind her.

They had been kind enough people, willing to help once the goodwife had relayed her story of trouble. She didn’t want to think of them as dead, cut or burned to pieces because of her- because that man demanded her to feel guilt for her actions.

_(She did she did she was sorry please let go let me go home Mother I’m sorry Seere I’m sorry)_

Her feet carried her onward, staying true to the faint path rather than risk getting further lost. The air had a chill from the passing storm clouds, moisture thick in the air. She met no animals, monsters, or people- unsure of what she might do if confronted with any. Her mind was a whirl of fear, exhilaration and thick, cloying guilt.

She shouldn’t have talked to the woman, shouldn’t have asked for help. Those people would still be alive, maybe even happy if it wasn’t for her.

She’d just wanted to be free, to be away, not dragged from one nameless place to another- was that so bad? Was it?

_(yes yes stupid selfish girl all your fault your fault everything’s all wrong)_

Something snatched her by the cloaked wrapped tightly around her body, pulling her back fast enough for her world to spin, a panicked scream lodged somewhere in her throat but it died as soon as she felt a pressure at her mind.

He was angry- no, he was _furious_. His hand balled up the fabric in his hold and it pulled tight against her neck, her shouts to be let go ignored as he began to drag her in whatever direction he chose. She tried to hit him, catch what skin she could with her short, blunt nails; heedless panic consuming all reason, pushing out and over into his own senses.

_You tried to run. I’ll show you what happens, as many times as it takes._

The town, she’d missed the town almost entirely and he was dragging her towards it with that smile on his face and his sword darker than usual in the faint moonlight. Something dripped from it, turned black by the gloom and she wanted to block out the knowledge of what it was, what was likely left behind in the woods.

Most of all she wanted to block out what he was about to do, no matter how much she begged for him not to.

People were emerging from their houses, drawn by her noise and she yelled at them to go back inside, to run, anything. He continued forward, lifting the stained sword and _pulling_ something from some unnamed place-

Fire launched itself from the blade, scattering into four spheres nearly as large as herself.

Still, he advanced with his madman’s smile.

-

It is six years later that she bleeds for the first time, struck by the red on her hands and between her legs. It is like the red she sees in her dreams, her nightmares- a young woman in a red dress stabbing herself with a sacrificial dagger, herself throwing flower petals and whirling in red robes and dress, a red dragon roaring in pain as its body is scored with orange-gold runes, red blood at her feet on her face and her captor’s sword cleaving flesh with ease-

She crumples, crying and trying to scrub it off, wipe it away but it won’t leave just sticks to her hands and fingers and her thighs are wet with it and she doesn’t understand.

He approaches her because of the noise, and from the great surge of surprise her telepathy picks up from his mind she knows he is unsure of what to do.

“Make it stop, please I don’t know what I did but it hurts please please make it stop-“, she reaches up to him, fingers bloody and understanding shutters the confusion in his face. He does not do anything at first, only watching her cry and panic before slowly kneeling down and taking her hand and wiping it as clean as it will get on his darker cloak.  
She stares, tears still leaking from the corners of her eyes and doesn’t know why her stomach twists with lead at the sight of him cleaning her hands, why now of all times he is something akin to gentle.

_You’re a woman now. Calm down._

His mental touch is strangely hesitant, uncomfortable and that does not quite help to calm her down. She makes an effort to swallow past the thickness in her throat, voice cracking when she starts to speak. “A woman?”

He nods, releasing her hands. She stares at them, thin branches of red still lurking in the creases of her fingers that he could not get out. When she looks at him again he is slightly more composed, but his eyes stay on her face and nowhere near the origin of the blood. She curls her legs up under herself, self-conscious and feeling sick.

_Women bleed once a month. You aren’t hurt._

It strikes her then, that he might not know the answers to this any more than she does and she nods slowly to cover her thoughts. Tries not to let panic enter her voice again when she asks, “What does being a woman mean?”

Her mind goes to her Mother, but the look on his face makes the thought dissipate.

He looks… uncomfortably human. Confused.

_You are an adult now._

His hands lift and she leans back on instinct, but he only begins to unwind something from his wrist, loop after loop of material that ends in a golden bracelet with a crest on it. He takes her hand, and begins to tie it onto her wrist and she watches him, eyes wide and caught between a nameless fear and something unfamiliar. Once the trinket is secure he lifts his eyes to hers, studying her expression, or perhaps, all of her. She stares back, small and afraid still, unable to find the meaning behind the complex look in usually flat blue eyes.

She touches his mind, tentative and light, finds that he does not quite shut her out.

There is no trace of the anger which propels him, no malice. Something half-remembered and blurry darts across his thoughts, gone the next and she does not have the skill or true desire to pursue into the paths of his mentality. But the echoes catch her, close to gentleness, before it hardens into a wall she cannot breach.

He tells her to stand, and she does, jumping when he wraps her green cloak around her shoulders with an odd sort of care.

_It will hide the blood. Next town and we will find you something._

She nods, drawing inward into her own thoughts. It barely registers when he takes her hand again and they start walking, overpowered by her own confusion and the new aches of a thing called womanhood.

-

Eight years pass from that morning to her twentieth year. She knows that something bothers her companion, and she intends to use it to her advantage. His mind reaches out often, touching that of his pact-partner and she has learned the touch and feel of the bond which is alien to her mind. She shuts out the surprise at how soft he is in his calling to the dragon, the look that crosses his face when he gets no response.

It is a weakness and she must exploit it if she is to be free.

They are in the midst of travel when she stops, acting as if something has dragged her attention from the path ahead and unfocuses her gaze. He stops and turns to her, wary and she is proud that the tremor of a lie does not reach her voice.

“There is someone calling. I can hear them, but they are faint.” When her eyes meet his she is afraid he will spot the falsehood, but instead he seems eager to hear what she has to say. “I don’t recognize the voice, but… it could be important. May we go look?”

She tries to inject just enough uncertainty into her voice to make it seems genuine, feels relief when he sharply nods. He lets her take the lead, as she is the one who can ‘hear’ the speaker and she keeps her feet steady as she walks. There is a path ahead that leads further into the mountains, she’d traced the suggestion of it with her eyes in the times when his back was turned and felt certain she could get back down fast enough to elude him.

His footsteps behind her are a reminder that she cannot go back, not now that she has set the plan in motion. The path continues to lead upward, one side dropping off into a sheer cliff and she steps carefully here- marking it in her mind for caution when the time comes. Her breath comes in shallower depths as they climb, and when they reach the little shelf and its view she is equal parts glad and nervous.

She cants her head to listen, pointing with what she hopes is the right amount of care towards a smaller path that leads to an open area ringed by stone. “There. It says it is up there.”

The glance she dares to steal allows her to see a glimmer of something like hope on his face, but then he is stepping forward quickly, eager to begin the ascent. She watches him, reaching carefully for the knife she’d secreted away.

He turns to look at her when she steps forward, eyes widening as she lifts the blade and plunges it into his left eye. His scream is terrible and it spurs her to let go of the knife and turn back to flee down the path. Loose stones scrabble from her feet as she runs, some falling away away away into the void she’d been afraid of on the climb up. Now she only cares to keep moving, so long as she does not stop he may not catch her, not while in such pain.

She is halfway down before his mind reaches her, the shrieking rage in the mental assault almost enough to make her freeze. He is coming, she knows that now- if she is caught there will be no chance like this again.

The ground evens out and she tears across the gray earth, eyes forward and legs pounding to escape the one behind- she does not hear his footsteps, not yet, but his twisted mind is becoming clearer to her jumbled one and she takes that as warning enough.

Was this the right path? Should she have turned?

A gorge opens up before her, steep drop accentuated by a yawning abyss that only after a dizzying distance is graced by a river. Her heart sinks, she is lost because she did not memorize the path enough and there is no time-

His presence prickles the back of her neck and she turns to see him behind her as if he’d never gone far at all. His shoulders heave with his breath, sweat standing out against his now gray skin. One hand is pressed to his face, blood having left a stream down his face and onto his broad chest. His remaining eye glares at her, somehow all the more blue and piercing.

His sword is in his other hand, steel catching the dim light from the overcast sky. She takes a step back, feeling the edge of empty space behind her and making a decision.  
He has ruled her life for fourteen years and she is sick of being a prisoner.

She keeps her eyes open as she throws herself off the side, sending one last look towards him before her sight is consumed by a nauseating rush towards the ground, the river so far below. It takes little time, but feels so long before her form hits- air knocked from her body at the impact with the moving water. Once again her vision swims, with water, images perhaps, bubbles and she cannot take anymore. Her lungs burn and she feels her body strain and lets go, cold filling her up and black taking everything else.

-

She is twenty four and has forgotten the past he would have her remember, made a name and a life for herself and it feels right. It did, until she felt it- a looming something at the back of her mind that makes all the effort she’s put into regaining herself seem pointless. The strength she prided herself on flees at this feeling, insides turning to water, then ice when she sees the head of black hair in the crowd.

His mind touches hers fully for the first time in four years and she sees red, red eyes and red dresses and red blood as he swings his sword and cuts down the Knights before him like they are nothing at all.

He smiles his madman smile and she cannot breathe.

**Author's Note:**

> Drakengard is a creature that will consume your life and I love it. I wanted to try and fill in what may have happened in those years between the first two games, so nearly all of this is headcanon. If anyone feels the need to recommend more tags to cover this, please let me know. I hope you enjoyed!


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